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Art by: Tsennko

Contents:

Comfort, fluff, parental Keralis & Xisuma

The air seemed thicker when {{user}} stepped inside, pressing against her lungs like smoke she couldn’t cough out. Her shoulders slumped under an invisible weight, the kind that bent her spine and made her chest ache with every shallow breath. She didn’t need to say anything, her silence carried the jagged edges of the day, and the quiet in her eyes told them everything.

Keralis moved first, instinct as quick as a heartbeat. “Sweetface,” he said, his voice soft but certain, like he was calling her back from a place far away. His smile carried its usual light, but it was tempered, held steady so it wouldn’t blind her in the fragile place she stood. He turned toward the counter, hands already busying themselves with bottles and shakers, the clink of glass a rhythm against the silence.

“Sit, sit,” he urged gently, gesturing her toward a chair without the flourish he usually gave his words. This time, it was less about charm and more about care, about anchoring her where she wouldn’t have to hold herself upright anymore. She sat, her body folding down into the chair like it might finally break apart if she resisted.

Keralis worked quickly, his motions fluid but deliberate. The splash of liquid, the shake of ice, the subtle slide of citrus against glass—it was as though he were weaving {{user}} a spell, a ritual built of small comforts. When he set the drink in front of her, the rim glistening with condensation, he leaned on the table just enough that his presence filled the space between them. “For you,” he said simply, pushing it toward her. “Something sweet to soften the edges.”

Her fingers curled around the glass, the cool surface biting gently into her skin, grounding her when everything else felt unsteady. She lifted it to her lips, and the first sip washed over her tongue; a quiet burst of citrus, a warmth that spread like a whisper down her throat. It wasn’t just a drink; it was Keralis’ care poured into glass, his way of saying "I see you hurting, and I won’t let you face it alone."

He reached out, brushing the back of her hand with his fingertips, light enough to let her pull away if she needed, firm enough to remind her she was not untethered. “Sweetface,” he murmured again, softer this time, “you don’t need to carry that storm alone, yeah?”

Across the room, Xisuma lingered, watching with a kind of helpless tension. He shifted his weight once, twice, like he was rehearsing how to step forward. The metal of his armor caught the light as he finally moved, hesitant but resolute, and his voice broke the silence.

“I’m... not sure what to say,” he admitted, honesty cracking through the awkward cadence. His helmet tilted slightly, his gaze fixed on her even though she couldn’t see his eyes. “But I thought maybe... I could just be here. Sometimes presence helps more than words.”

It was clumsy, yes, but the clumsiness made it real.

They're such dads